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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26647057">If Only Men would Talk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booklover2526/pseuds/Booklover2526'>Booklover2526</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We are Soldiers, but We are Brothers First [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Musketeers (2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aramis is a sad boy, But it leans more on the happy ending side too, Constance is Bad Ass, Constance is a good friend, D'Artagnan really loves his wife, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not-Beta read, References to Prostitution, SO</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:35:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26647057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booklover2526/pseuds/Booklover2526</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "He is My Penance".</p><p>After her conversation with Aramis, Constance cannot let the boys' relationship stand as it is. She talks with Athos, Porthos, and D'Artagnan about the current state of their relationship with Aramis and demands they fix it.</p><p>They try.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aramis | René d'Herblay &amp; Constance Bonacieux, Aramis | René d'Herblay &amp; d'Artagnan &amp; Athos | Comte de la Fère &amp; Porthos du Vallon, d'Artagnan &amp; Athos | Comte de la Fère &amp; Porthos du Vallon, d'Artagnan/Constance Bonacieux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We are Soldiers, but We are Brothers First [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know I said this would be out last weekend, but that clearly didn't happen. So, I'm sorry but here is the first part! </p><p>Also, this is now a series. Which seeing as this all started as a one shot I wasn't sure I would ever add to...yeah. After I finish this, I already have plans and ideas for at least a part three. </p><p>Thank you to everyone who supported part 1 of this series! It was really wonderful and inspiring to hear back from so many of you. Hopefully, this part will live up to the first one/expectations.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Constance watched as the world went from a dark mass outside her window to a dove grey as the sun began to inch into the sky. It would be another hour before anything was truly bright, but now one could make their way outside without the aid of a candle or lantern to watch where they were placing their feet. D’Artagnan was a warm weight pressed against her back, his feet tangled with hers from where she had pressed them together to leech off some of his heat. A heavy arm was wrapped over her torso, his fingers caught on the end of one of hers curls. His breath fluttered against the back of her head.</p><p>	She had spent days, months, and years waiting to have these moments with him without any guilt. She had always thought of herself as a good woman, and even though she had never loved her first husband and had near despised him at the end, the guilt had still weighed on her heart when her thoughts had strayed to D’Artagnan and the sense of life he brought into her small world. She had struggled to ever enjoy their moments together fully whenever she thought too closely about their situation, their love, because a part of her could always hear her wedding vows to be faithful. </p><p>	Tonight though, she could not find the same peace in his arms. Even when he had come to fetch her from the kitchen where she had sat for long after Aramis left finishing off the wine she’d open for them, and he had wrapped his arms around her, she could only see Aramis walking away. Shoulders caved in from a weight that she could not see, those admittedly enticingly brown eyes like the night sky. Big, dark, and bottomless with an empty grief. She had never particularly thought of Aramis as a sad man. Especially not with his quick smiles, quicker wit and humor, and solid presence that seemed to ease the tension out of a room but simply walking in.</p><p>	He was a dangerous man, one too easy to love, and deadly as a viper. Hours spent reading old mission reports when she couldn’t sleep from the worry that pressed on her lungs when she thought of D’Artagnan fighting in this damned bloody war had simply proved that. Based off what records there were on the topic, Aramis’s body count was far higher than most of the Musketeers, or at least it had been before the war. He had been a Musketeer longer, he was wicked smart when he employed his brain, and with his skills as both a swordsman and expert marksman, Aramis was a dangerous force that she was glad had never turned on the people she loved. It had made her wonder, on those cold nights, why he had never been made lieutenant instead of Athos. </p><p>	But last night, he had just seemed tired. As she traced circles, triangles, and other nonsensical shapes onto D’Artagnan’s arm, she bit her bottom lip at the guilt souring her stomach. How many signs that something was wrong, different, with her boys had she missed or ignored? All the times had she spotted D’Artagnan, Porthos, and Athos drinking or eating without Aramis in sight, why hadn’t she asked where he was? Why had she never stepped in a scolded them when they seemed to tease a bit too much about Aramis’s past escapades or when he was a slow at waking up in the morning? When did that teasing start hurting instead of provoking genuine laughter? </p><p>How many times had they complained about Aramis both too his face and alone, and how many times had she been present and not said anything? </p><p>Her stomach rolled, and she forced herself to take a few deep breaths to settle it. D’Artagnan shifted, pressing a bit closer, humming under his breath in that little happy way of his. She took a moment, eyes closed, to memorize the sound and feel of it all. Just as she did every morning, just in case the worst happened, and he never returned to her again. She could never hate the fact that he was a Musketeer, but she lived in fear that one day he or one of his brothers would not walk through the gate of the Garrison after a mission.</p><p>It had already happened once.</p><p>She could remember standing in the Garrison next the Treville, the man shifting and tugging uncomfortably at his new clothes. The king had gifted them to him since he had accepted the position of being his minister, but Treville was had been a solider for years and wasn’t accustomed to wearing the tighter, more pompous clothing even if it was very toned down in terms of normal court wear. Constance suspected that that had been Her Majesty’s influence. The sun had been beating down on them, and the air was a bit humid after the rain that had swept through the night before. </p><p>Athos, Porthos, and D’Artagnan were due to arrive back soon from Dunai. They had gone to retrieve Aramis from the monastery there in anticipation for the coming war against Spain. The group of three had felt off-kilter the past week since Aramis had left, as if there was a space all of them could feel but could not fill. Constance herself had felt warm at the thought of Aramis returning. She had missed his bright smiles and the way he flirted with her for both fun and to rile up D’Artagnan. Both of them took immense joy from that; Aramis because he liked to tease the younger Musketeer, and Constance enjoyed it for the look on D’Artagnan’s face and for the aftereffects that peppered her night. </p><p>She had never felt judged by Aramis either. Not for fighting, not for cheating on her husband, not for her blunt and scathing comments or jokes that many would consider unladylike. Perhaps, knowing his history as she did now, that was why. He had grown up surrounded by the type of women everyone loved to judge even as they used them. Women who had to be tough if they wanted to survive. Perhaps his propensity to not judge things like that had nothing to do with his past but was rather just who Aramis is. Either way, she had always appreciated it.</p><p>The gates had creaked open that day, and she had watched in anticipation as Athos, Porthos, and D’Artagnan had rode their horses inside, the hoofs making a ruckus even as they beat against dirt. Aramis had never ridden inside. She had listened with Treville as Athos, sounding particularly frosty and with his brow furrowed, explained that Aramis had refused to come back and fight in the war. That he would live out his promise to God unless God indicated otherwise, and that they had not been an indication to him of otherwise. She had watched as Porthos had thrown back drink after drink, D’Artagnan’s eyes burning with something she had only seen directed at her ex-husband and the true scum of society. </p><p>She had felt anger push at her heart too, looking at all these men she loved even is she was only in love with one of them. Aramis was leaving them in their time of need, and she knew even then that all three were a lot less safe for it. She had let them drink and gripe that night.</p><p>Later on, the anger had left. Fizzled out, burned away, as she had read those reports and as she occasionally visited to palace to visit Her Majesty and the Dauphin. Aramis had been fighting for a long time, and she couldn’t imagine the pain he would have felt having to watch the Dauphin grow up knowing him as nothing more than Aramis the Musketeer. Further, the Queen spent much of her time balancing raising her son and working to appease the king. Never mind the fact that being there could and likely would put the Queen and the Dauphin in danger if he even hinted at his extended affection towards them. The thought had already been placed in the king’s mind due to Rochefort, and anything that reminded him of it or he counted as a confirmation could have ended with Aramis, the Queen, and potentially her other boys (if the king thought they knew anything about it) being executed. </p><p>In the end, she couldn’t blame him for leaving to try to find some peace in his life. She just missed him and wished to see him again. She had been so happy that day D’Artagnan and the others had returned from the battlefield with Aramis in tow. All had felt right in her world again. </p><p>There was another happy hum from behind her, and she felt D’Artagnan place a soft and sleepy kiss to her hair. His arm tightened around her waist, and she turned her head so that he could press the next kiss to her cheek. “Morning,” he muttered.</p><p>“Morning,” she whispered back, shivering a little when he pulled back and drew some of his heat with him. She watched as he climbed out of bed, throwing on his clothes in between stretches. He buckled his pauldron onto his shoulder and as was his tradition, traced the fleur-de-lis with a finger and a satisfied smile. </p><p>The symbol for the Musketeers. A brotherhood of elite soldiers, ones she loved and adored. The group that made up most of her friends now, friends so close to her they were as good as family.</p><p>She could not let the current state of things stand. Not for her, not for her husband and their friends, and certainly not for Aramis.</p><p>D’Artagnan had both complained and admired in equal measures her attitude, particularly her perseverance when it came to things that mattered to her. It got her in trouble occasionally, and it meant he and the others got in trouble with her on other occasions. However, it almost always worked out. It was something that she had learned from her own mother. That in a world built for men, you had to pick your battles and take a stand on the important things. Constance had many important things, and she refused to allow others stupidity to interfere or make a mess of any of it. </p><p>She slid out from the covers and stood off the bed, crossing the room in quick steps. She latched onto her husband’s arm, yanking so that he would turn to face her. He was blinking those big brown eyes at her, eyes that she secretly hoped any children of theirs would inherent. He gave a little smirk before she could say anything.</p><p>“Sorry, did I forget your morning kiss?” He teased, leaning down.</p><p>Yeah, no. Narrowing her eyes, lips pursed, she snaked a hand out and snatched a handful of his silky hair. With a harsh pull, he was forced to contour his body o try to ease the stinging pain.</p><p>“Jesus, what? What did I do?” D’Artagnan yelped, reaching to hold the hand she had buried in his hair. </p><p>“You, my idiot husband, are going to go get those two idiots you call brothers. Just to clarify, I am talking about Athos and Porthos. Then, you will meet me back here in fifteen minutes,” she paused, thinking for a moment. D’Artagnan watched with weary eyes. “Make sure Athos hands out the day’s assignments first,” she finally tacked on. </p><p>D’Artagnan stumbled as he was finally released, taking a few steps away from his wife and rubbing the side of his head where his scalp itched. Not that it mattered since Constance had turned away and was getting dressed, paying no mind to her pouting husband.</p><p>With one last pout in his wife’s direction (she was so not getting a morning kiss today…though whether that was due to his own grudge or the fact she seemed pretty upset with him was something he would not acknowledge), D’Artagnan slipped out of the bedroom and went to find his requested brothers. Athos was likely in his office finishing assigning duties for the day or already in the yard, and Porthos was either in bed or eating. </p><p>He was not sure why Aramis had not been requested for whatever talk Constance wanted to host, but after yesterday he wasn’t going to comment on it. Aramis had seemed off since that had caught sight of that pretty blonde girl in the streets, but it did not excuse him from trying to stop them from acquiring the Queen of England’s sapphire. That woman clad in all her silk clothes and nice jewelry, things he could only hope to be able to provide Constance with one day, certainly could survive without another gem to decorate her hands. Especially if she was marrying a rich man like St. Pierre. </p><p>He groaned, reaching up a hand to bang on Porthos’s door. D’Artagnan could not help but be thankful that Porthos and Aramis had their own rooms now even if it was just to get out of awkwardly telling Aramis that he just needed Porthos. He could picture the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle and the frown that would turn Aramis’s lips until D’Artagnan felt inexplicitly guilty for putting such an expression on his friend’s face. Even if that friend had a habit of bringing heaps of trouble to their doorsteps. He didn’t like seeming his friend appear so somber.</p><p> After a few beats of silence, he whacked the door again. When no answer still appeared, D’Artagnan shrugged and head towards Athos’s office. Porthos was likely eating breakfast, and even if he weren’t, he would be down in time for morning orders. Besides, letting Athos know to take them off the roster for the morning was probably more important than waiting for Porthos to get up. </p><p>He passed several Musketeers as he went, nodding greetings or offering consolidating pats on the shoulder for some of the ones who were clearly struggling to be awake, but no one stopped him for longer than a few seconds. Though, he did have the luck to stumble onto Porthos as he crossed the yard. He was seated at one of the tables, an empty plate scrapped clean before him, laughing at two of the cadets who were practicing hand-to-hand.</p><p>D’Artagnan smiled, feeling warm and light as he watched his friend throw back his head with a loud cackle as the two cadets went sprawling into the dirt. Some of the older Musketeers were joining in, though one did make their way over to give some advice to the recruits. Aramis wasn’t around which made it easier to grip onto Porthos’s pauldron and use it to heave the man out of his chair. Not that he could have moved Porthos very far if the bigger man did not willingly go along, but those were just details.</p><p>“Where we going, whelp?” Porthos smiled, flashing his teeth at the dreaded nickname that had never disappeared. </p><p>“Constance,” D’Artagnan growled with a glare thrown Porthos’s way, “wants to talk to you, Athos, and I. She didn’t say what about, but she didn’t look happy.”</p><p>“And we try to keep Constance happy,” Porthos chirped, nodding along. Though, it was not exactly a lie. Even before she took over running the Garrison, they had tried to keep the fiery woman happy. One, because she was their friend and D’Artagnan’s love. Two, because she could be rather frightening when truly ticked off. Now, they also had to worry about what she would do to them at the Garrison if they provoked her ire. </p><p>The trip to Athos’s office was short. Without knocking, Porthos threw open the door and waltzed in. D’Artagnan smiled and followed after him. Even before the war, Porthos had rarely hesitated to intrude on Athos and Aramis’s spaces. Afterwards, Athos would need to lock the door and maybe blockade it to keep Porthos from coming in unannounced. </p><p>D’Artagnan was not really sure if Porthos spent much one-on-one time with Aramis anymore. </p><p>It’s not like D’Artagnan himself did either. Maybe he should invite Aramis over for dinner on one of the nights Constance decided to cook for them rather than having them eat whatever the Garrison cooks made that day.</p><p>He grinned at the loud sigh that came from the room as Porthos entered, and he stepped in and closed the door behind him. Athos was giving them that fond exasperated look of his, eyes narrowed just a bit, trying to look annoyed around the slight grin curling his lips. Over the last several years, D’Artagnan had gotten good at reading Athos’s many looks. Though it also helped that the man seemed to be getting better about trying not to shut everyone and thing out constantly.</p><p>“You could not wait five minutes before I brief everyone else?” Athos drawled, setting his quill down. </p><p>“Ah, well, about that…,” D’Artagnan muttered, fidgeting with the fingers of his gloves. “Constance is demanding that the three of us go and talk with her about that. Said not to give us any assignments until this afternoon or evening.” Which wasn’t an exact translation of Constance’s orders, but it was close enough and likely what she had meant.  </p><p>Athos raised on posh eyebrow, staring at D’Artagnan. He shifted on his feet while Porthos snickered from beside him.  “Madame D’Artagnan does realize that I am still the Captain?” </p><p>Porthos snorted, “You knew that if she could, she would have swept that from under your feet by now.” </p><p>D’Artagnan could not help the warm pride that pulled a smile across his face. Athos simply blinked, the eyebrow dropping. “Of course. And I would have let her,” Athos answered, sounding amused even as the statement rung a bit too true in D’Artagnan ears. </p><p>Not that he had a problem with it. Constance would make a great Captain with a bit more experience in combat and training. She would never get to be one, not with how the world worked, but she would have been great. The Musketeers would follow her direction with as much confidence and joy as they followed Athos’s decisions and orders.</p><p>Besides, Athos had never really wanted to be the leader for more than their little group. He was content in his position as Captain now, but it had been a hard transition simply because he had never really wanted it. He had been content being the lieutenant and following Treville’s orders. </p><p>“Let us get on with it,” Athos said, and he quickly wiped off the wet ink on his pen before rising to stand. Porthos and D’Artagnan followed behind him as he crossed the room and exited the door. The conversations that had been flowing at the bottom of the stairs stuttered to a halt, the men and recruits falling into their resting positions. D’Artagnan grinned as he watched a few recruits scatter away from where Aramis stood at the back of the group, putting his pistol back in its place on his belt. His friend made an excellent teacher, and the recruits often seemed to scramble to get his attention or ask him questions. Sometimes, between him and Constance, it was like watching ducklings trail after their parents.  </p><p>Athos gave out orders as briskly as he always did before dismissing everyone. The Musketeers scattered, some gathering together the recruits to take them with on patrols and other duties. For a moment, D’Artagnan caught Aramis staring up at them on the staircase, eyes dark and shadowed.</p><p>As soon as he realized D’Artagnan was looking at him, he turned and walked towards the armory. Athos had put him on cleaning the weapons there and reorganizing everything, both because it needed done and Aramis was one of the best at the chore. D’Artagnan also suspected it was a bit of a punishment for his behavior the day before especially since no one was assigned the help him out. </p><p>D’Artagnan could not really disagree with the action. Aramis’s behavior the day before still made D’Artagnan’s temper want to ignite and snap at the other man. It was a small punishment for trying to defy orders, getting distracted by another one of his lovers, and trying to prevent them from retrieving the Queen of England’s gem. </p><p>D’Artagnan expected that they had maybe another five minutes on Constance’s timeline to get back to his rooms, so he didn’t protest when Porthos steered them towards the kitchens. He certainly had not eaten yet, and knowing Athos, the man had likely forgotten all about eating while he was working. Bringing breakfast up to Constance might also improve her mood, and that was something D’Artagnan was all for. </p><p>They gathered a large spread of bread, cheese, dried meat, and a pitcher of water. There was more than enough for the three of them plus some extra for Porthos to snack on despite already having eaten his breakfast. The bigger man rarely turned down food. </p><p>They made their way back to D’Artagnan’s rooms with gentle anticipation. Upon reaching the door, D’Artagnan knocked while trying to shake off the weird feeling of knocking on one’s own personal door. It swung open with a oud creak, Constance standing before them with one hand on her hip and a scowl on her pretty lips. Her face softened for just a moment at the sight of the breakfast platter before it hardened again.</p><p>She was far too beautiful to be D’Artagnan’s wife. </p><p>“Get in here,” she barked, stalking back into the room. D’Artagnan pouted at his brothers for a moment before trailing after her. There would definitely be no good morning kisses today.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, I'm gonna apologize that this took awhile. I've had a pretty rough two weeks, and with my anxiety so high and my depression kicking my ass a bit more than usual, it made it hard to write. Also, dialogue (and lots of it) is something I always struggle with. I'm never really satisfied with it, and I struggle to think its good, so yeah. Hopefully this is passable.</p>
<p>THANK YOU for everyone who read this, commented, kudos, whatever!! I can't tell you how much I appreciated it, and how much it helped me get this chapter done when I was struggling with personal life things and my frustration with dialogue.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Constance forced her back to remain straight, her shoulders up, her face pushed into a scowl. The corset helped. Her anger and disappointment helped too. But as she watched her boys walk into the room and sit at the little table Porthos had made for her and D’Artagnan when they had moved into the Garrison, some of the anger just wants to wither away. She wanted to swallow her disappointment, sit next to her husband on the bed and eat breakfast with her boys. She wanted to give D’Artagnan a kiss on the lips, peck both Porthos and Athos’s cheeks, and send them on their way. </p>
<p>	But Aramis deserved better from her, especially now that she has a good idea of what is going on and how it is affecting him. <i> These </i> men deserved better because even if they are still angry at Aramis, she knows none of them would want to hurt him as much as they are currently. And as much as she loved them, she knows that it is unlikely (especially at this point) for any of them to clue into the situation by themselves. A part of her also suspected that if the situation was not dealt with soon, once the Musketeers do away with Grimaud and the Governor, that Aramis would disappear again. Except for this time, she doubted he would tell them where he was going. </p>
<p>	She refused to lose her brother again.</p>
<p>	And that made her the woman for the job of dragging her idiot husband and their idiot brothers’ heads out of their asses.</p>
<p>	So, she stood in the center of the room, arms folded across her chest, and she dug her nails discretely into her arms. She let the nigging pain steady her mind as she waited for them all to settle and for D’Artagnan and Athos to begin eating. Let them sit in the coiling tense silence for a few bites and watched as they got progressively twitchier.</p>
<p>	“What happened the last few days?” She asked, knowing full to well what happened but hoping they were not too off track from the truth.</p>
<p>	Of course, they are because life just cannot be that easy. Athos raised an eyebrow as an inquiry in her direction, but he played along and recounted the details of the day in a dry voice. For all that her boys are great detectives, they also are capable of missing so many things when it comes to each other. </p>
<p>	“So, none of you bothered asking Aramis exactly how he knew Pauline?” </p>
<p>	Porthos chuckled, but it is a bit too dark and angry for her liking. “Is that her name? We didn’t exactly need to Constance, she is just another one of Aramis’s girls,” He drawled, taking a swig water. </p>
<p>	<i>“Constance, they already consider me to be a whore.” </i> She hadn’t wanted to believe Aramis when he said that, she still didn’t, but Porthos certainly was not helping her case.</p>
<p>	She felt a familiar burn of anger searing her throat and the back of her eyes felt hot. “She was not,” she hissed, practically spitting, “another one of Aramis’s girls. She was his friend from childhood.”</p>
<p>	There was a short pause in the room, and then Porthos shrugged. “What does it matter? He still held up a mission from the king for her. Still abandoned us to chase her skirt.”</p>
<p>	She kind of wanted to smack him over the head with the cheese platter. At least her D’Artagnan looked a bit more uncomfortable. </p>
<p>	Her lover peered up at her with those stupidly big brown eyes, a sheepish smile spread across his lovely face. “Maybe it was rude of us to assume, but Constance, he still ran off after her. And he could have gotten us all in a lot of trouble if she kept the sapphire because he said she could.” </p>
<p>	Oh, she loved her husband. She loved him and his stupidly sweet eyes. That did not mean she didn’t want to slap him across the face too for being a hypocrite. </p>
<p>	“That’s a bit hypocritical, coming from the men who threw one of said diamonds into a field for anyone to find,” She growled, holding herself a little tighter. They weren’t catching on, thinking pass their side of the story. They were not wondering why she was asking these questions even if they were smart enough to know she had a reason.</p>
<p>	Athos shifted in his seat, leaning against the back of his chair, and rotating his cup in his hand. She wondered for a brief moment if he wished the water inside was wine, even if he seemed to be better about his drinking habits lately. Especially in comparison to a few years ago. </p>
<p>	“Constance, while I do not condone Porthos’s actions, those people will never see money like that in their lives and they could certainly use it. Lady St. Pierre can survive just fine without a gem like that just sitting on her finger,” He drawled, posh and full of that elegant confidence she had always admired. </p>
<p>	“Oh really?” She barked, drawing herself up higher and narrowing her eyes at Athos. She remembered Pauline’s bright blue eyes on the brink of tears because she had found love and a better life and was terrified it would all be ripped away. She recalled Aramis, the defeat and grief in his voice as he described what Pauline had done and why. </p>
<p>	“That’s funny because she is being hanged tomorrow for killing a man because she couldn’t handle the thought of losing anything else. Especially not the life she had been building for herself with St. Pierre.”</p>
<p>	She watched as they processed her words, as their faces went from being fairly neutral to surprised to just a bit horrified. They had seen many things, her boys, and so this would not shock them too much. They knew too well what acts humans were capable of committing. </p>
<p>	But she was creating a map of just how much they had screwed things up with Aramis, and this was a part of it. </p>
<p>	“That, of course, is not your fault. What is your fault, is that you refused to listen to Aramis. You refused to think a bit deeper about why he was so invested in this girl and why he wanted to help her so much. You let your anger cloud your minds. You just assumed she was one of his past mistresses and left it at that. In fact, you were angry at him for it when really he was just trying to help a childhood friend who came to him begging for help because she was being blackmailed for her past.”</p>
<p>	“Did you know,” She whispered so softly it would be near impossible to hear if the room was not nearly silent. Her grief and disappointment colored her tone and dripped off the words. “That he thinks you all imagine him to be a whore? A problem for you all to deal with, and that none of you really want him around but feel it is your duty to deal with him? Did you know that he does not want you to know about how he grew up because he couldn’t trust that you guys wouldn’t use it to comment further about him sleeping with women? That it would be another thing you would be burdened with keeping a secret because it would taint both his image and that of the Musketeers?”</p>
<p>	“Ever since you brought him back form the monastery, you have pushed him away when you should have been holding him close. If you don’t fix it, we will lose him again.” She finished her tirade a bit out of breath, the words having slipped faster and faster off her tongue until there was nothing more than the memory of Aramis’s hurt and bone deep sadness. She felt washed out, a bit too cold, and her fingertips were tingling. </p>
<p>	She wanted to take the memory of the night before with Aramis and all his pain light up in the fire’s light and toss it away. But she couldn’t because it was important as a motivator to get her boys to actually talk with one another and let go of the hurts that they had caused each other. It was important because Aramis was important. Even once she got them all back on the track to actually acting like brothers, it would still be important for the reminder it was that Aramis had suffered at their hand like he had others, and they needed to be better about it in the future. </p>
<p>	So, she stood in front of them, raised her chin up, and kept her back straight. Even at the look her husband gave her, hurt, mystified, and so terribly sad and regretful, she stood firm. She stood firm as she watched Porthos’s gaze darken, the way he turned away, slumped into his seat, and put his head in his big gentle hands. She met Athos’s unreadable gaze until the man himself turned away. </p>
<p>	“We will talk with him,” Athos finally breathed, looking deep into his cup. She nodded and forced herself to walk away from them. She wanted to grab them and pull them into a tight hug and say she would take care of it. However, that wouldn’t help anyone, so she just grabbed and ripped off a hunk of bread, some cheese, and a piece of jerky and walked out. She closed the door with a heavy thud. </p>
<p>	She leaned against the door for a single, deep breath. Then, she took a bite of the bread in her hand and marched downstairs. She had work to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>	Athos had long known his faults. Anne had been a big wake up call for him, and for a long time afterwards he felt that was all he could see. It had taken thousands of hours of needling, soft reprimands, and gentle whispers when he was almost too drunk to remember them that he was a good man with many good traits and skills until he could start seeing past his faults. </p>
<p>	It was an endeavor that had taken years, and Aramis had often been at the forefront of the movement. He had also been the one Athos had believed the most when he had whispered those too gentle words. Porthos, for all Athos loved his brother, often struggled to see Athos’s faults on top of his good traits. D’Artagnan was much the same. Whenever those two were confronted with the worse of Athos’s nature, they had pushed past it and forgotten until the next time. Forgive and forget, truly. Aramis, on the other hand, both sang Athos’s praises and held him accountable for his faults. Especially when those faults put others, particularly his brothers or himself, at risk. </p>
<p>	He could still remember staring at Porthos leaning against a wagon wheel bleeding heavily, and Aramis getting in his face screaming, “Don’t you care about Porthos?” In those simple words, Aramis had called him on his bullshit thinking that avoiding the past was more important than saving the life of his brother and fellow Musketeer. Aramis had been particularly cold towards him for a while afterwards until Athos had caved and went to speak to him one night when he was lonely and missing the way Aramis would sometimes croon Spanish lullabies whenever Porthos and Athos’s pasts clung too tightly for them to sleep. </p>
<p>	It had been a rough conversation, one in which Aramis had told him he had two choices. Wallow in his past forever and lose his future, or start stepping away from it to join them in something greater.</p>
<p>	<i>“You don’t have to be perfect, brother, or completely forget the past. That is impossible. But you cannot let it prevent you or others from living. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you, but I will if it means I keep my brothers now and in the future safe.”</i></p>
<p>	Aramis without complaint, for as long as Athos had known him, had helped him when he was stumbling drunk, throwing up, and swearing at anyone who got his attention. He had never threatened to leave him. But Athos wanting to put Porthos’s life in further danger just because he did not want to step into his old house had been where he had drawn the line. Not because he didn’t love Athos or that he loved Porthos more and didn’t care about Athos’s trauma, but because for all his sympathy he would not let Athos ruin all of their lives simply because Athos had not wanted to deal with being so close to his past again. And losing Porthos, especially due to Athos’s stubbornness and petulance, would have destroyed every single one of them. </p>
<p>	He knew in the back of his mind, that had he not agreed to start trying to come to terms with his past, Aramis would have gone to Treville and declared that Athos was unfit for duty.  Treville, despite Athos being the lieutenant at the time, would have taken Aramis’s word, and Athos would have been sent on leave until Aramis and the Captain felt he was ready to come back. </p>
<p>	This time, Aramis had not forced him to face his faults. Constance had to be the one to tell him that he was failing his brother because he was too wrapped up in his own problems and self to notice that Aramis was not okay. Apparently, Aramis had not been okay for a while. </p>
<p>	Athos wondered, for all the times Aramis had called him out when he was being stupid, blind, or too focused on his problems to see others, how many times he hadn’t because it was Aramis himself that Athos was failing. <br/>	There was a loud clatter as the plate and cups on the table rattled as Porthos brought his fist down. He did it another time, and Athos reached out and grabbed his fist before he could do it a third and send the tittering cups spilling across the surface. Athos swallowed against the hard lump in his throat as he watched Porthos tremble and cling to his hand. </p>
<p>	“How could he..?” Porthos croaked, and the chair screeched as he suddenly pushed it back to stand up. D’Artagnan awkwardly lurched to his feet, stepping towards them with a few unsteady steps. Athos watched as he clung to Porthos’s shoulder and gripped Porthos’s hand tighter. </p>
<p>	“Let go, whelp. I got to talk to him,” Porthos yelled, though it was clear to both Athos and D’Artagnan that he wasn’t really trying to shake either of them off. </p>
<p>	“Not until you calm down,” Athos said, voice cracking in his dry throat, “Not until we all calm down. It’s not going to help if we just sit there yelling at him instead of actually talking.”</p>
<p>	Athos forced himself to take a few steady breaths and remain in his seat as D’Artagnan gently pushed Porthos to sit down and then sat on the ground next to them. The couple only had two chairs, but D’Artagnan had often voiced that he liked sitting on the floor or the bed whenever they all gathered for dinner or drinks in the room. Constance, if she was around, usually sat with him. Athos, with a sinking feeling and a strong craving for wine, realized he didn’t know where Aramis liked to sit when they were all here together in this room. They had never invited him to join. </p>
<p>D’Artagnan took a long breath, and Athos found it hard to meet his eyes. For all that D’Artagnan was a great man in his own right and a strong soldier, a man who had seen many things just like them and truly was not that much younger, he had an incredible ability to seem more innocent than he was. It sometimes made it hard for Athos, who felt so sullied by the life he had lived and the decisions he had made, to look at him. </p>
<p>“How long do you think it bothered him? The jokes, I mean. Because I’m sure the fact we have been avoiding him has bothered him a lot, because its Aramis and he loves people and especially us and just…” D’Artagnan’s rambling trailed off, words clumsy like he was back to truly being the “whelp” of the group rather than it just being a silly nickname. </p>
<p>Porthos dropped, his back caving in until his head dangled in the open space between his knees. “I don’t know, it’s Aramis. It is impossible to tell how much of the things we have said were jokes to him and how much of it he took as jabs.”<br/>He took a deep breath, and Athos forced himself not to wince at the expression across his face when Porthos turned to look at him and D’Artagnan. He had to remain steady in the wave of everything Constance had told them, support his brothers as they processed her words until they could go talk to Aramis. Afterwards, Athos could fully process them himself and feel what he needed to. </p>
<p>“I just…I was so angry at him for lying, and then for leaving. I am still angry about him just leaving. We have been together for years, and we needed him, and he refused to come back,” Porthos heaved out each word like it was its on individual weight upon his chest. </p>
<p>Athos reached out and gripped Porthos’s shoulder, giving it a rough shake. D’Artagnan leaned over and rested his side against Porthos’s knee. Out of all of them, Porthos had taken his best friend’s refusal to come back the hardest. And in their own hurt and anger, they had never really worked through much of those feelings themselves much less helped each other through theirs. </p>
<p>Athos had found over time that his anger had waned even as much of the hurt lingered, and he suspected D’Artagnan was much the same if not better off than him in accepting Aramis’s choices. He knew that Porthos had cradled that anger and hurt for those years in the war. Each battle without Aramis by his side had just refueled the flames whenever they had started to choke and die. Aramis coming back had helped greatly, especially after the fiasco at the monastery, but it hadn’t doused the flames. </p>
<p>“I don’t want him to leave,” Porthos breathed, and Athos found himself nodding along. He couldn’t imagine Aramis leaving again, his heart felt heavy at the thought and his throat parched with the desire for copious amounts of wine. <br/>“That is what we tell him,” Athos stated into the space between them. </p>
<p>“And that we will do better,” D’Artagnan added, and Athos felt his lips twitch upwards.</p>
<p>Porthos sat up in his chair. He grumbled a bit, nonsensical words that didn’t mean anything, but he was smiling wide. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They took a few more minutes to finish breakfast and gather their thoughts. They would not completely settle until they had spoken with Aramis, but it would be useless to go down there while they were all still excessively riled up. It would probably result in any conversation they wanted to have ending in yelling or more than one of them shutting down. And that included Aramis. </p>
<p>So, they finished their breakfast at a forced sedate pace. Then they cleaned up all the crumbs and bits that littered the table and floor to the best of their ability because Constance was already irate with them, and according to D’Artagnan, they did not want to see her when a mouse found its way into their quarters. Afterwards, they walked down to the kitchen and deposited their plates and cups to be cleaned. </p>
<p>Athos gave a nod of his head, gesturing in the direction of the armory. He slightly regretted giving Aramis the task of cleaning and sorting the space now that his annoyance for the day before had drained away at Constance’s words. However, Aramis was also the best for the job, and it made it easy to find him now when they needed to talk to him. Plus, it gave them the privacy to talk since he had neglected to assign anyone to help him. </p>
<p>Perhaps he would give Aramis the next day off to make up for it, or assign their group to one of the short out of town jobs that wouldn’t take more than a day, but would get them outside the crowded and dirty corridors of the city. Aramis often enjoyed those trips, especially when there was no rush to be back by a certain time or to meet another one of the King’s demands. They were times when they could relax as much as they ever could on the job.</p>
<p>As expected, the armory was quiet when they snuck in. Dust floated in the dim light that eeked through the dirty windows, and there was the oddly comforting scent of gun oil. The shift and clank of a gun being disassembled mixed with the low croon of softly sung Spanish. </p>
<p>	Athos turned the corner and smiled at the sight of his brother sitting in a chair in front of a table with a spread of pistols across the surface. Aramis’s personal pistols were not a part of the loot, but rather hanging by his belt off the back of his chair. Easy to still reach if something happened, but still out of the way so he could sit a bit more comfortably. </p>
<p>	A wood board creaked under Porthos’s boot, and Athos watched as Aramis’s head whipped up and his hand dropped the pistol he had been holding to grip the stock of one that sat gleaming in the low light next to him. Athos almost smiled at the slight flush that crossed Aramis’s cheeks when he realized who it was. If they had been anyone else, especially one of the recruits, the natural and lightening quick reaction would have been more than a little startling. Possibly even terrifying even if Aramis had stopped himself before he raised the gun in their direction. </p>
<p>	“Athos,” Aramis started before pausing as Porthos and D’Artagnan stepped more fully into the room. “Brothers,” he amended. </p>
<p>	Athos had never been the greatest at words when it came to more emotional conversations, and it was clear that neither D’Artagnan nor Porthos knew where to start either as they all stood there more than a bit awkwardly after their greetings. Aramis looked puzzled, and perhaps a bit sadly amused (how had Athos missed it for so long), as he gestured towards the table. </p>
<p>	“Do we have a new mission, or would you all like to sit…” he trailed off purposefully, picking up the gun he had been cleaning and continuing his work. </p>
<p>	Athos felt his tongue unstick from the bottom of his mouth. “No, but we would like to speak to you,” he drawled, mentally pushing his legs to carry him forward and to pull up one of the spare chairs. Usually, cleaning the armory was a task up taken by a few people with a seasoned Musketeer like Aramis leading the group and helping provide further instruction. The only times it was done by one person alone was either as minor punishment or when Aramis himself decided that he wanted no one else in his space.</p>
<p>	Basically, there are enough chairs shoved into the corner for each of them to grab one and pull it towards the table. With the well-seasoned skill of soldiers, they each picked up a pistol and begin the cleaning process. Aramis looked a bit weary at his words, shoulders tensing slightly, but his eyes still watched carefully as they each went through the motions. They had all learned how to clean their weapons before meeting Aramis, but Aramis had also spent hours scolding them for their techniques and teaching them the proper way. It was more time intensive, but also far more thorough. </p>
<p>	Even after doing Aramis’s version of weapon an equipment care hundreds of times until it was the only way any of the Musketeers knew how, he still tended to watch everyone like a hawk. However, it was often worth it for the way he always puffed up and preened like a proud mother bird when the process was complete. Also, equipment tended to last longer.</p>
<p>	“So, what did you wish to speak to me about?” It was asked softly, spoken when they were each well into their current project and Aramis has grabbed a new pistol to clean from the stack. </p>
<p>Athos didn’t pause, continuing the motions even as he looked up and stared Aramis straight in the eyes. He appeared tired; eyes darkened further by the bruises under his eyes from a restless night. “Constance spoke to us about some things today.” </p>
<p>Aramis stopped, shoulder ridged and eyes dropping away from his stare off with Athos. He stuttered, “That isn’t something any of you need to worry over. She shouldn’t have said anything. I was a bit sad and a bit drunk, and it was all just senseless prattling. Please do not worry yourself over it.” </p>
<p>The thing was, Athos was paying attention now. He could hear the tightness between words, and the heaviness that sunk some of them. He could see the way Aramis’s trigger finger on his dominate hand twitched for a second. He was lying, he had meant every word that had been spoken between him and Constance the night before. The same sadness that had provoked her to call on them still dyed the syllables of his words now. </p>
<p>“Stop lying, Aramis,” Porthos growled, placing the gun he had been working on onto the table’s scuffed surface. “It wasn’t nothing.”</p>
<p>The corners of Aramis’s mouth tightened, and he gripped the gun between his hands just a bit tighter. Athos was still thinking of something to say when D’Artagnan slid himself into the conversation. “We don’t think of you like that, Aramis. We always just meant it as jokes, and we never judged you on it.”</p>
<p>Aramis’s eyes darted over to look at the younger man, and even Athos tried not to wilt at the hard look there. “We never meant to judge you,” D’Artagnan amended, looking down and away. </p>
<p>They sat there for a few long beats of silence, the tension growing. Athos knew that if nothing were done, this would all lead them down a worse path that would just end in misery for all of them. They would lose Aramis if they did this wrong, or at least, he would never give them another shot to try again. They were lucky he hadn’t made some excuse to rush off or blown off the conversation as it was.</p>
<p>“Damnit, Aramis,” Porthos croaked, “We never truly meant anything by it, and maybe sometimes it didn’t come out that way. We’re sorry, but we never thought of you like that. Even at times when we were kind of upset about the trouble you threw yourself in with your affairs, we never thought of you as a whore or anything like that. You know the kind of people I grew up around, and you know that I out of everyone probably understand what drives people to selling themselves. I don’t think of you like that or any worse than that.”  </p>
<p>Apparently, it was the right thing to say because the steely look in Aramis’s brown eyes drained away leaving them wet. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it was coming from Porthos, and that made all the difference in Aramis’s mind. He sniffled once.</p>
<p>“Aramis, you are our brother. We have made some mistakes, especially in our treatment towards you since you have come back. We have hurt you in ways that brothers shouldn’t,” Athos said, placing the gun he had been working on down and officially ending any pretense that any of them were doing work. Oh well, it was unlikely that anyone would come into the armory anyways, especially with Aramis on cleaning duty alone. </p>
<p>Aramis looked down at his hands, an uncharacteristic smile on his face. It was feeble, and it had no joy or mischief along the curves. “You do not need to apologize for such a thing, Athos. I was the one who left and refused to come back, and I broke something in our friendship with it. I can not blame you for learning to live without me.”</p>
<p>Athos caught out of the corner of his eye the full body flinch that jolted Porthos’s body, the wince that smeared his face, and he wondered what exactly he had missed to provoke such a reaction. Aramis’s words hurt, a hot dagger that pressed against the skin over his heart because he had never wished for his brother to think such a thing about himself or their friendship. Perhaps they had all messed up a little, but the blame was certainly not all Aramis’s. They did need to apologize too. However, Porthos’s reaction was more than that.</p>
<p>“Aramis, we do need to be sorry, and we are. Yes, you left, but we continued to push you away once you came back.  Even if we didn’t mean to, we did,” D’Artagnan spoke, reaching at to clasp one of Aramis’s hands. Aramis gripped back tightly, and his smile become a little less watery. </p>
<p>“We want you, brother, and we don’t want you to leave again,” Porthos said lowly, giving that boyish smile that Athos often rolled his eyes at. It often spoke to a dose of trouble, though perhaps the fun sort of trouble, coming their way, but here it felt right and sweet. A flash to how Porthos used to look at Aramis four years ago.</p>
<p>“We are going to try to be better, Aramis,” Athos adds, letting his face remain soft and open when Aramis looked his way with a more tentative grin. If there was any man or group of men he could be himself wholly with and show his love towards, it would be these ones.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Aramis whispered, and he lifted the hand link with D’Artagnan’s to press a kiss to the top. “Okay, brothers.”</p>
<p>Athos watched as his brothers all settled in to continue their cleaning, the tension having dissipated from the room with the brightening light from the sun outside. Not everything was fixed, and they had a long way to go to reintegrating each other back into their lives and letting go of lingering hurts, but they had taken a step forward today. They were all together, and everyone was content and laughed when Porthos made a joke. </p>
<p>It felt like coming home for the first time in a long time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's it for this part! Thank you so much to everyone!</p>
<p>As you probably noticed, not everything got discussed here. Because in my opinion, in real conversations (especially emotional ones) you forget to cover things even if they are really important to you. Example, they never talked about how Aramis thinks he is a problem for them. Also, Aramis kind of caves and seems to take their words to heart easily. More on that later. </p>
<p>There will be a part three where individually the boys (and likely Constance because I LOVE her), talk things out more with Aramis. However, that likely won't be out for a bit until I get caught up on my other story (for the Mag7 fandom) that I have neglected because my brain was so focused on this. So, I'm going to try to get a few chapters for that done before I give myself back over to this just in case I get consumed by it again, so that I can continue to post for that one too during that time.</p>
<p>ALSO, part of my writing process for fandoms is that I will go back and watch on episode or two (or part of the movie) before I write. I helps put me in the mood and feel closer to the characters. When doing that for this part, I got an idea for a post-Season 1 Episode 4 one shot. I have started writing that and almost finished (which also took time away from this but fuck it). I'm thinking about posting it, so that may come out tonight or tomorrow (if you like my work, don't feel obligated to read it, especially because it is not connected to this series [not that you should ever feel that way about reading my or anyone else's stuff]).</p>
<p>Anyways, thank you!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you again for reading! The next part will be the boys "chatting" with Constance, talking with Aramis, with maybe and extra tidbit or two. Hopefully that will be up soon, but heavy dialogue also scares me because I never know if I am doing it well. So it may be another week/week and a half. I also have another story that I need to update too.</p><p>I'd love to hear how people think this is going/any feedback!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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